


mutatis mutandis

by wizened_cynic



Series: Dress Your Family in Kevlar and Armani [1]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-27
Updated: 2012-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-14 21:05:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/519498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wizened_cynic/pseuds/wizened_cynic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rossi pays a visit to his divorce lawyer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	mutatis mutandis

**Author's Note:**

> Ridiculously fluffy fluff written for [CottonCandy Bingo](http://cottoncandy-bingo.dreamwidth.org/). This would be my wildcard prompt - "reunited." Don't be misled by my summary; this _will_ give you diabetes.

David Rossi isn't a name often heard around here anymore, but it's not a name Viv would forget. You don't forget the man who basically paid off your student loans, put you on partner track, and single-handedly bought you your first house.

And that's just his first two marriages.

The third paid for her son's private school tuition, which, judging from Eli's latest report card, would've probably been better spent on a yacht. "Maybe he'll invent the new Facebook or something," Saul says, mostly joking. "You never know about these things." Her husband has a point but Viv isn't holding her breath

She didn't think anything would surprise her anymore after twenty-six years as a family lawyer, until her secretary --- a mousy creature by the name of Natasha whom Viv's forever referring to in her head as Not Jackie --- pokes her head in and tells her there's a David Rossi waiting outside in reception.

"I didn't see him on my calendar," Viv says. She would have noticed for sure, though the IT people are always doing all sorts of upgrades to her Outlook that she doesn't fully understand.

"He didn't make an appointment. He just," Not Jackie giggles nervously, "popped in. Said he wanted to see you. Should I tell him you're in a meeting?"

"No. Take him to Room 2. And tell him _I told you so._ "

Last time Viv saw him was eight, nine years ago. After Lucia, which had ended not as amicably as Carolyn, but involved fewer smashed paintings than Angie. Rossi had been too fucking generous with alimony, but by then he was already a millionaire best-selling true crime writer, or whatever the fuck New York Times called him (Viv never read any of his books, and she told him as much) and she had properly advised him, so who was she to complain?

"Here's a bit of advice," Viv said to him. "Get a hooker. Get all of them. And don't marry any. Not that I don't appreciate your business, Dave, but I'm tired of your ugly mug. You're going to have to get yourself a new divorce lawyer. "

This was before the merger, before she had her corner office and two dozen minions scuttling about in fear of her. Back then you could still smoke in the office, which was what they did. Pre-embargo Cuban cigars which Viv made sure Lucia couldn't get her hands on.

"I'm afraid that's not going to happen," Rossi replied. "I'm going to keep you on retainer for my next seven marriages at least."

Viv laughed and gave him the finger. He was always one of her favorites, one of the few clients she actually liked seeing, though she could live a long and happy life without divorcing David Rossi again. He was a shitty husband, yes, and a giant asshole at times, but he was a good person and divorces are like repetitive stress injuries you don't realize you have until you're alone in your house one day and can't get a jar of pickles open.

She can't get the system to call up Rossi's file, so she yells at Not Jackie to do it. "Bring me a double espresso," she adds, because you aren't allowed to drink in front of the clients anymore either, which is ironic since the clients are usually the reason why lawyers are driven to the drink in the first place.

Viv's at the stage in her career when she can wear flip flops in the office and nobody could do shit about it, but she's only five-three so she needs the added height to scare the senior associates into knowing she's business. She's never liked heels and it's a long walk to the conference rooms, but that gives her the time to think of the appropriate hooker joke to greet Rossi with and to wonder, just briefly, what the fourth Mrs. Rossi is like.

She hears his voice before she reaches the room. "Beatrice, don't," he's saying, in a tone Viv's definitely heard before. She's imagining a twenty-year-old blonde bimbo, because even though she knows he prefers smart, mouthy brunettes, the man is a fifty-seven-year-old millionaire so let's not kid ourselves, he's going to be beating golddiggers off with a stick.

What Viv doesn't expect to see when she opens the door is a three-year-old in a checkered sundress, sitting beside David Rossi as he tries to wrangle a pair of Mary Janes onto her feet.

It's a good thing Viv has a kid, which effectively means she's learned to censor herself when required, because _Jesus fucking Christ_ is most definitely not appropriate for young Beatrice's tender ears.

"Vivian," Rossi says, a tiny red shoe still in his hand. It has Hello Kitty on it. Jesus fucking Christ indeed. "You're looking good. Look, Beez, it's my friend Viv. I've told you about Viv, remember?"

Beatrice glances at Viv momentarily and says, disinterested, "I take off my shoes."

"No, Beatrice, you're not taking off your shoes. You're going to keep your shoes on, okay?"

Beatrice rips the velcro fastener from her shoe and kicks it off her foot. It sails across the room in one swooping arc. Rossi looks appropriately indignant, then resigned, and it sets Viv off laughing.

"Oh, you had this coming," she says when she's done. For now, at least. There's a pretty good chance she might laugh forever. "Cute kid, though. Must take after her mom."

"Thank god for that," Rossi deadpans as he gives up on the shoes and doesn't argue when Beatrice shimmies out of her socks as well.

Viv sits across from the kid and they stare each down until Beatrice is struck with a sudden bout of shyness and tucks her face into the crook of her father's arm.

"How old are you?" Viv asks. She holds up two fingers. "Are you this much?"

Beatrice shakes her head and holds up three fingers.

"Good girl." To Rossi, she says, "Well, looks like you didn't drop her on her head too much. So what's the story? And I'm telling you, it better be a damn good one because no judge in their right mind is going to give sole custody to a guy who's had more wives than Blackbeard, even if he didn't actually kill any of them."

Rossi gives her a self-satisfied smirk. "I've missed this."

"No, you haven't."

They watch as Beatrice, now barefoot, darts off to press her face against the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook downtown D.C.

"No, I haven't," Rossi agrees.

"Honestly, Dave, what brings you here?" Viv can see the ring on his finger. It's not the uglyass one that he usually wears, the one he tries to pass off as a family heirloom but looks as though he got it from a gumball machine.

"Beezus and I were just in the neighborhood. After a _wildly_ unsuccessful playdate."

"Vomit?"

"Biting."

Viv nods. "It happens." She turns to the kid, who's overcome her anxiety of strangers and is standing pigeon-toed next to Viv's chair, too young to appreciate how frightening Viv can be. "Were you the biter or the bitee?"

"I bited my friend," Beatrice says soberly.

"Never confess, my dear," Viv tells her. "Always pin it onto the other guy."

"We're working on the biting." Rossi's sigh is long-suffering, though it's obvious by now that he's only here to gloat about his life. To prove her wrong, that self-righteous jackass. Viv's still going to charge him for this meeting. Hell, she'll charge him at her premium rate. "Anyway, I thought I'd stop by to say hi to an old friend, maybe terminate her retainer."

"What every lawyer loves to hear," she says, but she's happy for him and she's got a good feeling about this. You don't work twenty-six years in family law without developing some damn good instincts, and those damn good instincts are telling her that after today, it will be a long time before she hears from David Rossi again. Even if her instincts are wrong, and they're not, she has to take into account the grin on his face when his phone rings --- the picture on the caller ID is a brunette woman with Beatrice's eyes and smile --- and that shit-eating grin doesn't lie.

By the time Rossi hangs up, Beatrice is interested in wearing shoes again (but not socks) and Viv is helping her put them on. Beatrice's toenails are painted a sparkly neon pink and the image in her head of David Rossi giving his daughter a pedicure is possibly the funniest thing to cross her mind in a long time. Viv wishes Jackie were here to see this. Good old Jackie. Always had a soft spot for him. Always said, "Fourth time's going to be the charm," and what do you know? Maybe if Viv ever forgives her for retiring she will call her and tell her that she's right.

Lawyers hate being proven wrong, but Viv will allow this one. She is other, bigger clients anyway.

"Do you want to have lunch at home or at Mommy's office?" Rossi asks his daughter as he stuffs her things into a backpack --- sweater, stuffed dinosaur, book; Viv's forgotten how much crap kids need on a given day --- and scoops her into his arms.

"Office!" Beatrice squeals, patting the side of his face as if to say, _You silly old man._

Viv walks them to the elevator, which she doesn't do for anybody anymore, Not Jackie will let you know. Viv is almost glad that Rossi has his arms full of three-year-old because otherwise she might be tempted to hug him, and god forbid if he hugs her back she might just die from the ridiculousness of it all.

"I'll have my secretary send you my bill," she tells him as the elevator doors start to close. She's not even sure if he hears her, he is so busy trying to stop Beatrice from pressing all the buttons, but he does and she adds, "Don't you ever let me see you in my office again, David Rossi."

"Top notch service as always, Vivian," he says as the doors close, and that, Viv hopes, is the last time she will ever see him.  



End file.
